Prom
by La-Femme-Feline
Summary: Set within the second Maximum Ride book, Max faces her most fearsome opponent yet: Prom! Can she survive? FAX


Prom

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, "No freaking way." But oh yes, freaking way, it was.

Us poor, destitute kids were in school. The regular type of school, not the psychotic type of gene-mixing school, and it was alright. We were learning, and safe. From Erasers, though not from prom.

I held the horrible hot-pink flyer in my hand. Prom, the one thing every girl dreamed about. Prom, the one special night of our lives. Prom, a fricking nightmare to me.

"What is it, Max?" Angel asked as we walked home. Pft, not like she couldn't read my mind for it. Oh yeah, but I forbid her to. Right.

I glanced grumpily and sent the thought to her. Her large blue eyes widened and she yelled it out.

"Oh my gosh Max! That's great! You'll be so pretty! Prom! Awesome!" Angel exclaimed. I blushed and repeatedly hit my hand against my forehead. God dangit Angel!

Everyone turned. Nudge opened her mouth and then all hell broke loose.

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I teetered and fell on my face. Ow, face-plant. I slithered ungracefully around on my stomach to see my door opened and Fang snickering loudly.

"Shut up," I muttered, a blush coloring my cheeks, "I'm practicing, go away!"

The truth was, I was trying to practice. Practice dancing. For the prom. Why? Because I was basically being forced by the rest of the female population in Anne's household (because they couldn't, so I had to) to go to the prom and I didn't want to look like a dweeb in front of everyone while dancing.

And the reason I was on the floor right now? The ankle-breaking, toe-crunching delight of high heels. Yippee.

Fang, still snickering like the butt he is, was considerate enough to grab my arm and pull me up. God, I still can't get used to how he's stronger than me.

Then he placed his hand on my waist. I practically ready to backhand him across the room from anger and embarrassment but he caught my wrist and placed it on his shoulder.

"What – what are you doing?" I asked through clenched teeth, astonished.

"Teaching you how to dance," he said, as calmly as if I had asked him what the time was.

He put his other hand on my waist and hummed a waltz tune. "One, two, three, one, two, three," he murmured under his breath.

We lazily waltzed around my room. Boy, was this romantic. I tripped over my satanistic high heels, Fang catching my elbow to keep me from breaking my neck.

After a while, I got better and didn't trip anymore. Fang let go and bowed to me, dark hair falling over those oh-so-irresistible chocolaty eyes. If I weren't so infatuated with him, I'd swatted him out the door.

Fang smirked and walked out. Grrr. I wiped my face and looked at my prominent blush in the mirror. Man, not again!

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I was awed and creeped – out at the same time. I was in the prettiest dress shop, but the prices were outrageous. I flinched every time I heard the cash register ka-ching.

"Oh, oh, Max! Lookit this one!" Nudge exclaimed as she dragged me over to the frilliest, girliest thing I'd ever seen. Ew. "Max! You should get this one!" she went on.

I wrenched my arm away to go look at, well, more ME dresses. Angel showed me a couple decent ones and Nudge picked out a kinda modest one.

The one that I liked best, though, was the one I had found and Anne had agreed on the price and the fact that it would hide my wings.

It was a sea-greenish kind of mini-skirt (yeah, I know, but it's preeeeeeeeeeeeeeety. . .) with waves a the ends. It had a stylish black jacket to go with it to hide my wings.

I already had my Max-killing black high heels at home. It was all good. I cracked my knuckles. I was ready for THE PROM.

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I walked into the prom on the arm of my doting date. No, not Fang, as much as I would've liked it to be, but Sam.

"Would you like some punch?" he asked. 'Yes Sam, Sam I am,' I thought snidely.

"Yes please," I replied. I went over and sat in a chair. Then something caught my eye. Red hair. Dammit.

Lissa. The only person besides Ari that I despised with every inch of my being. And she was dancing with her date. Fang. How lovely.

I rested my head against my hand. Fang, damn you, can't you see that I want to be the one holding onto your arm, giggling at your sarcastic remarks, kissing your fine lips . . .

I shook my head and stood up. If Fang didn't want me, then Sam would! Right?

I turned around and bumped my nose into a chest. I looked up, rubbing it (my nose) ungracefully and stared into chocolate eyes.

"It appears our dates have found the night to be only for themselves and each other," Fang remarked quietly. He turned me around by the shoulders to show me – ah! Why am I not surprised?

Lissa and Sam were backed up against a corner, kissing furiously. Gee, what a happy couple. A (insert swear word for Lissa here) and a (insert swear word for Sam here). Aw, how cute. Not.

"So," Fang said, drawing my gaze of disgust away from our dates, "May I have this dance?"

I nodded and walked towards him, holding out my hands ready to place on his shoulders.

"Not this kind of lame dance," Fang said as he stopped me, eyes amused," But one of a special quality."

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We lifted off the ground outside, circling each other under the moon. Proper dance position and music from the gym. Our wings beat in time.

"By the way, Max," Fang said, "You look cute." And he said this in a highly alluring way too, resting his forehead against mine. I flushed hot under his gaze.

"By the way Fang," I whispered, "I'm glad I had my first and only dance with you."

He smirked smugly and captured my lips with his.

"I'm glad I danced with you too, "he murmured, kissing me again.

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End file.
